


Birdsong

by stardropdream



Category: Clover (Manga)
Genre: CLAMPkink, F/F, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suu finally addresses the way Oruha's songs make Suu feel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birdsong

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted for the CLAMP kink meme and then reposted to LJ August 29, 2010.

“How are you today, Suu?” Oruha asks, her voice a soft, gentle coo that the girl always loves to listen, even if it could never be face to face. She could listen to Oruha all day and never tire, constructing what the woman must look like in her own head while listening to the melody of her feather-soft, honeyed voice.  
  
“I’m well,” Suu says, twists a little where she sits to get more comfortable, her stomach flooding with warmth as she asks, “Are you well?”   
  
“Yes,” is Oruha’s reply, and Suu can hear the smile in her voice as she speaks with Suu. “I’m singing tonight and that always puts me in a happy mood.”  
  
Suu absorbs all of Oruha’s words and tucks them away to remember always, the smooth burnt sugar of Oruha’s voice, the lilt of her words—  
  
“What songs will you sing?” Suu asks.  
  
“Would you like to hear?” Oruha asks, her voice inviting.   
  
Suu shifts again, that same flooding of warmth filling her, now drifting lower than her stomach. She clenches her eyes shut. She remembers to breathe.   
  
“Please,” she says, quietly.  
  
As if she could say no. It seems Oruha was merely waiting for the confirmation, because there is no pause between Suu’s answer and the soft inhale of Oruha’s lungs as she prepares to launch into the first song. Oruha begins her song, a soft introduction of lyrics before her voice booms into its chorus, her words echoing in Suu’s head—a song of love, of longing, of desire—  
  
Suu does not fully understand it, but knows she loves it, longs for Oruha’s songs, desires to see Oruha sing, to see and touch Oruha, the person, not just the beautiful voice at the end of the sound waves—  
  
She listens, and her heart rate picks up. This is typical when listening to Oruha’s songs. They bring Suu so much pleasure she almost becomes delirious with it. Her breathing feels shallower as Oruha purrs into the phone a line of love and sex, of being pushed just far enough after such a long absence from the one you love. Suu tries to keep quiet, doesn’t want her breathing to become too loud and distracting for Oruha. But Oruha continues through her song, her voice sweet as sugar and as rough as sandpaper, cooing the lyrics into the phone and into Suu. Suu swallows thickly, feels her heart pounding and her body singing with Oruha. She squirms, and finds this shifting of her legs puts a spark of pleasure shooting through her, so as Oruha sings, Suu writhes, eyes clenched shut and absorbing Oruha’s song.  
  
But all too quickly, the song comes to its end, and Oruha purrs, “The next one?”  
  
“Please,” Suu whimpers.  
  
But it is not a song that Oruha sings. She must sense the difference in Suu’s voice. “Suu?” she asks. “Are you alright?”   
  
“Yes, I’m…” Suu pauses, squirms again and feels that same spasm of pleasure. She knows her breathing is shallow, her words even more breathless. But she can’t lie to Oruha. “I feel strange.”  
  
“How?” Oruha asks, and it is clear she is concerned, the purr of her voice dropping away.  
  
So Suu describes how she feels to Oruha with meticulous and curious care—the increased heartbeat, shallow breath, flood of warmth, pleasure when she clenches her legs together and squirms—  
  
Oruha is silent for a moment, and then she says softly, “You’re aroused, Suu.”  
  
“Oh…” Suu pauses at this. She rolls backwards onto her back, legs still pressed together. She stares at the sky through the glass canopy. “How do I feel normal again?”  
  
“It’ll go away eventually. Or you can relieve yourself.”   
  
“How?” Suu asks.  
  
“You…” Here, Oruha hesitates. But after a moment she says, “You slip a hand between your legs and press and rub until you find what makes you feel good. It’ll be a build up.”  
  
“Like a song’s crescendo?”   
  
Suu can hear the smile in Oruha’s voice when she says, “Yes. Exactly.”   
  
Suu swallows, but follows Oruha’s advice, slipping her hand underneath her dress.  
  
“If you are aroused,” Oruha said, “You’ll be wet.”  
  
“I am,” Suu says in wonderment, feeling her hand slip, her fingers press, searching, the slick wetness odd and new. Curious, she presses. “Ah—!”  
  
“Suu?” Oruha asks.  
  
“I found it,” Suu breathes, a quiet exhalation. Voice hushed now, “What makes me feel good. I think.”   
  
“Good,” Oruha says, her voice a touch breathless now.  
  
Suu rubs, presses, and her body shudders. She tries to muffle it, but her mouth goes slack as she writhes. Oruha listens in silence, not moving, as Suu does this. Suu’s eyelids flutter, and her body seems to hum to life, coursing with new sounds and feelings and vibrations—a whole new song she’s never heard before, and loves. Oruha listens to her song.   
  
Suu hears the rustle of clothing over the sound waves and hear the smallest hitch in Oruha’s breathing, and that feeling of connection is enough to make Suu arch her back slightly, body tensed like a bow.  
  
“Oh—! Oruha—!” she cries, writhing, her body shifting and arching, her breathing harsh and ragged. Calls for her. Hears her breathing.   
  
“If you want,” Oruha whispers and Suu pauses to listen to her, biting back a soft moan as her hand presses and she absorbs Oruha’s words, “You can slip your fingers inside as you do that.”  
  
Suu’s hand moves and she attempts to do so.  
  
“It has to be a certain angle,” Oruha adds.  
  
It takes a moment of trial and error, of pushing and prodding, exploration, but slowly Suu presses a finger up and in. She stiffens with a small gasp.  
  
“Relax,” Oruha breathes.  
  
Suu does so, and her fingers press in more, up to her knuckle. With the base of her palm, she continues to rub, her legs spreading and her back arching. She whispers a string of broken words. She feels her body twisting, a coil of pleasure rising in pressure inside her. A thick, dense coil.   
  
“I’m—” Suu begins, but doesn’t know what to say, unsure how to express it. She feels the build-up, knows the crescendo of a song when she hears it. “Mm… ah! Oruha!”  
  
Oruha stays quiet, but Suu can hear her breathing. Suu focuses on those sounds, and then something inside her snaps and she gasps loudly, body tensing. She moans, quietly, her back arching. Her words rattle, but she manages to gasp out Oruha’s name.   
  
She comes back down and listens for Oruha. Oruha is not loud, but Suu can hear her shortness of breath, the rustle of clothes.   
  
“Mm…” Oruha hums after a moment and all movement stops, save for the passing of air from her lungs. Suu absorbs it all. “Better, Suu?”  
  
“Yes,” Suu whispers, eyes falling shut. She pulls her hand away and stares at the stickiness that stays behind, unsure what to make of it. She still feels wet and sticky between her still slightly convulsing legs. The tension has left her body.   
  
She hears Oruha fix her dress, and then the sound of Oruha slipping her fingers into her mouth. Suu listens, and then mimics her, slipping her own fingers into her mouth to clean them. She tastes herself. She keeps her eyes shut and listens to Oruha, pretends her fingers in her mouth are Oruha’s instead.   
  
“Thank you,” Suu says around her fingers.   
  
Oruha takes a while to respond and when she does, her voice is warm: “You’re welcome, Suu.”  
  
“Will you sing another song for me?” Suu asks.  
  
“… Of course.”


End file.
